Sometimes, risks need to be taken.

You won't ever walk if you're afraid to stumble.

You won't ever fly if you're afraid to fall.

You won't ever live if you're afraid to die.

Were you ever afraid, Sasuke?

Hardly had autumn faltered when winter pushed it aside. We fell asleep one night to the leisurely descent of the first leaves, and awoke the next morning to find they had all lost patience and fallen to the ground. The sky was uncertain whether to follow suit- clouded over with the coming rain, but not yet oppressive with winter's chill.

Now that the trees were naked and shivering in the wind, Konoha felt less of a fortress and more of a prison. Before, the foliage had masked us from the gaze of any wicked eye, but now the branches created a living, swaying cage around us.

When I voiced my concerns to you, your eyes were laughing softly at me, though your voice was soothing and almost paternal, "It's fine, dobe. But if they really trouble you, you can always ask father to chop them down."

I declined the offer; I knew the place would feel empty and lifeless without them in the summer. Besides, as much as the trees unnerved me, a prison is just as difficult to enter as it is to leave.

The arrival of the mummers later that week proved me wrong. They danced and skipped and ran and stumbled their way into the Uchiha compound with accustomed ease. The troupe was easy to distinguish from the usual throng of civilians; a few rode on dogs and pigs, some dragged booths and stalls behind them, the majority were marred and disfigured, and all were saturated with colour, so unlike the drab autumnal hues of the rest of town.

You told me it was tradition, that throughout the year, entertainers from Suna and Ame and Kiri and all the other villages would tour each precinct. The fire lands had their turn during the transition between autumn and winter, and since Konoha was the most established town, we were first priority. And now that you mentioned it, I remembered that every so often mummers would visit my home, but there'd be far less of them. I guess Uzushio wasn't as important.

By the time daylight had transcended into iridescent night, the travellers had initiated themselves into the heart of the compound, both figuratively and literally. They were talking and laughing with the locals, enquiring about pets and the yield of the crop. Any hopes of sleep were stilled by the gentle thrum of voices down below. Not that I wished to- no, my main priority was to join the festivities.

"Sasuke?" I said, "Is there any chance we could go down and join in? Your parents, Itachi, they wouldn't mind, would they?"

You set down the book which had stolen your attention away from the commotion outside. Now you looked long and hard at the view, "Some unspoken rule dictates that my family should only join in on the second day. As much as I'd like to-" my fallen smile might have changed your words, or perhaps they were already coming, "comply, it does get rather dull waiting around, don't you think?"

The fallen smile flew back onto my features as you led me into the village, wavering slightly when I saw how many people there were. Someone could easily hide within the throng. A mask would not seem so out of place among the travelling show. Any alchemic evils would be obscured by the festivities. You sensed my anxiety and grappled for my hand, finding it at last and holding it tight.

You led me through rows of the weirdest people I was like to meet- a puppeteer who was a puppet himself, a man who could detach whole limbs, another who felt no pain even as a sword was stuck into his chest, one who was more plant than man. Others were craftsmen and alchemists rather than anomalies of humanity. As we passed, one woman put a paper rose in my hand, one that smelt soft and pastel like a real flower, attracting the butterflies that lingered in the lantern-lit night. The last breed of travellers were the showmen, like one man who could project things away by sheer force of mind.

When I looked over to you, your eyes were drawn elsewhere, to what was undoubtedly the biggest dog in the world. The white terrier sat on its haunches, panting. Even sitting as he was, he was taller than his owner- by no means short himself. He looked to be about our age, but was five years taller, with a face that was already starting to chisel and define. With a mischievous smile, he beckoned us over.

"What's an Uchiha doing out so early, eh?"

You removed your hand from mine in order to brush away your identifiable raven black hair, "Just showing the Noel festivities to dobe here."

"Teme," was my immediate response, before I turned to the other boy, "I'm Naruto."

"Kiba. And this is Akamaru. Little demon of a dog."

Akamaru barked angrily when he registered the insult, but a belly rub helped soothe any hurt feelings.

Hanging above Kiba's head was a bird cage, inside it, a small yellow warbler. I tugged softly on your arm, and pointed upwards. The bird registered the attention and sparked into a short song.

Kiba followed our gaze, "My sister found the chick a couple of weeks ago. We have to sell it- taking care of this big brute is hard enough," he laughed, sliding his arms around the dog's neck and ruffling his fur.

As if in a mirror, another set of arms encircled your shoulders, "You're not supposed to be out yet, Sasuke."

"Nii-san…" you muttered apologetically, although I wasn't sure who the apology was directed at. Your friend Kiba, for having to leave? Me, for not buying the bird? Or Itachi himself, for disobeying the Uchiha creed?

However, there was no apology in those piercing black eyes.